


mark me

by flaneuse



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, just some good old face-fucking and facials
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-30
Updated: 2013-05-30
Packaged: 2017-12-13 10:23:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,322
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/823209
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flaneuse/pseuds/flaneuse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Because Bella wanted come in Enjolras's eyelashes. Title sucks because this is pwp and I just don't care.</p>
            </blockquote>





	mark me

Need thrums through Enjolras's veins. He's been dizzy with it all day, he's fucking hungry for it. Class takes too long, and then Combeferre forces him to linger to discuss an upcoming paper, but Enjolras can't concentrate. He's been half-hard for hours, just enough to keep him on edge but not enough to give him any real satisfaction, with every brush of his jeans bringing a frustrating (because it's not enough, not going to be enough until he's got Grantaire's hands on him) pressure against his dick. He takes a long sip from his water bottle and only realizes when he catches Combeferre's odd look that his mouth has lingered on the rim too long. 

"If you'll excuse me," Enjolras mutters, embarrassed. "I have to go."

Combeferre only smirks and raises a graceful brow, and lets Enjolras go.

Enjolras can't leave fast enough. He knows Grantaire is waiting for him at his apartment, probably painting, maybe lazing, maybe even getting off himself, thinking of Enjolras, head tipped back and fingers dancing along his own length. Enjolras shuts his eyes and presses his cheek against the cold window of the bus. He can't even remember how he got on the bus, but he's got his eyes closed and his ears open, waiting to hear his stop called.

It's takes hours, it seems, even though he takes his bus every day, to and from classes. It's twenty minutes, it's only twenty minutes, and Enjolras entertains himself by thinking about what got him to this point. Why he's so aroused, so desperate. He and Grantaire haven't been together for long- and he doesn't know what they are, whether they're dating or just fucking (and Enjolras's dick would be okay with that, but the other part of Enjolras that he tends to put aside wants more), but they've been almost inseparable since then. Grantaire has situated himself in Enjolras's space; he comes over after classes, they fuck, then he paints or sketches or even works on his own shit while Enjolras writes papers and organizes events with Combeferre; they get dinner (takeout if they're lazy, or Grantaire will cook if he's feeling particularly romantic- or just like a showoff, because they both know Enjolras can't cook to save his life), they fuck again; Grantaire sleeps and Enjolras stays up into the night working. But when he finally crawls into bed, Grantaire is already there, warm and pliant, and Enjolras curls up next to him.

They're not talking about it- well, not their relationship (is that what it is?) because if they do, the careful dynamic they have will shatter, he's sure of it. So they're ignoring it, they're just doing it, and Enjolras is sure that in a few weeks they will get in a horrible fight and need to decide once and for all what they are, but until then, he's not questioning it. He's refusing to let himself think too much about it. 

But what they do talk about is sex. It's already one of the central features of their relationship, and both Grantaire and Enjolras surprise themselves with how vocal they are about what they want. Just last week they'd been eating dinner in Enjolras's kitchen, around his shitty table that doesn't seat as many as it should considering how often their group of friends ends up in his apartment. Grantaire had looked over at Enjolras and said, "I want to fuck you over this table," as casually as he then asked Enjolras to pass him the fried rice.

Enjolras had swallowed hard and said, "Oh?" and Grantaire had nodded.

"Maybe tie your ankles to the legs of the table so you have no choice but to be spread open for me. Would you like that?" Grantaire asked, and Enjolras could tell that it was supposed to be nonchalant, but that Grantaire really wanted to know. Neither of them wanted to push each other father than they were comfortable with (sexually anyway- Grantaire is all too eager to push Enjolras's buttons and test his patience any other time). And Enjolras was surprised by how badly he did in fact want that.

So Enjolras assured him, drawing Grantaire's hands to his, to circle Enjolras's own fine-boned wrists, and later that night, it's exactly what they did. And Enjolras as well makes sure Grantaire knows what he wants. Enjolras loves being fucked, but he gives back as good as he gets. He'll hook a leg around Grantaire's waist and flip them so he's on top, ride Grantaire into the mattress so they both know who's exactly in control. Not every sexual encounter between them is like that, however. They've done hard and fast, both grappling for dominance and release. They've had sex so soft and loving that is genuinely scares Enjolras, because it's not something he'll be able to give up if the time comes.

But that's not what Enjolras is thinking of right now. Right now his mind is mind is remembering, with perfect clarity, of this morning. Enjolras had woken to Grantaire burrowed into his side, nose pressed into his neck almost uncomfortably. Enjolras had run a hand down the side of Grantaire's face, smiling involuntarily as Grantaire unconsciously leant into his touch. As Grantaire's eyes opened and he woke, Enjolras surged forward to kiss Grantaire, morning breath be damned, and Grantaire opened immediately for him, mouth slick and wet and soft. Grantaire's stubble was rough and hot over Enjolras's skin and he groaned, reveling in it.

Grantaire pulled away to look at Enjolras, but then whined and kissed him again.

"You have no idea what you look like," Grantaire had said. "Lips and skin all red."

It gave Enjolras an idea, and he whispered it into Grantaire's ear, and Grantaire let out a strangled, "what," in reply.

Enjolras pulled back and grinned. "I want to suck you off today. I want to be on my knees in front of you, my mouth stretched open wide as you fuck in and out of my mouth. And then I'd pull off right before you came and make you finish yourself off just so that you could come on my face. Then I'd make you lick it off me."

"Fuck," was all that Grantaire was able to say to that, and Enjolras made a show of licking his lips in satisfaction as Grantaire's fingers dug into his side. 

And then Enjolras had gotten into the shower and left, saying only that he'd see Grantaire when he got back from his classes that afternoon. But he hadn't counted on just how much he wanted this, how much he wanted Grantaire, and the anticipation leached into his skin and kept him going throughout the day, keeping him anxious, excited, needing.

And now he's finally back at his apartment, having flew from the bus the second the doors opened, and he lets himself in, keys tossed to the counter in the kitchen without a second thought.

"Grantaire?" He calls out, dropping his bag to the floor without a care for his books. His jacket follows his bag, and Enjolras tucks an errant strand of hair behind his ear where it's escaping it's tie. It's in a braid today, but Enjolras's constant agitation kept him pulling at it, and now the thick waves are escaping their bonds. 

"In here," he hears from his bedroom, and he feels something flutter in his stomach. As he enters the bedroom, he bites back a groan. Grantaire is sitting at the edge of his bed, dressed in black jeans (which are unbuttoned and shoved down to the tops of his thighs) and a forest green v-neck, which looks impossibly soft. He's leaning back on an elbow, and his other hand is wrapped his cock, stroking leisurely.

"I couldn't wait," Grantaire admits sheepishly, and Enjolras surges towards him and drops to his knees, hands immediately smoothing up and down Grantaire's thighs.

"That's okay," Enjolras assures him, and hooks his fingers in the belt loops of Grantaire's jeans. "But you need to take these off. Now. And your shirt as well."

Grantaire complies immediately, eagerly, and Enjolras takes advantage of the bare skin that is offered to him, neglecting to remove his own clothes. He reaches up to swipe his thumbs over Grantaire's nipples (that earns him a moan), drag his nails down Grantaire's thighs (and that earns him a deep groan), but it's not enough, none of it's enough. The real prize is between Grantaire's legs, nestled in thick, coarse hair and jutting, _straining_ proudly up, curving just so towards Grantaire's abdomen. Enjolras wants it.

He adjusts his position on the floor where he's kneeling in between Grantaire's spread legs so there's not so much pressure on his knees, and then leans forward, looking coyly up at Grantaire through his dark lashes as he licks a long, deliberate stripe up Grantaire's cock. Grantaire can't stop his hips from twitching upwards just a little as he's finally granted some long awaited pleasure.

Grantaire tastes so good already, and Enjolras flattens his tongue on the top of Grantaire's dick, wraps his lips around the head and sucks for a moment before loosening his jaw and sinking down, slowly, until his lips are at the base of Grantaire's dick. It's only because Enjolras went so slowly that Grantaire didn't immediately buck up into the wet heat of his mouth.

He does, however, let out a drawn-out 'fuck' as Enjolras pulls up and then bobs his head down again, just a little faster, but not enough to overwhelm Grantaire entirely. Enjolras loves sucking dick, loves the ache in his jaw and the smell of Grantaire and the heavy weight of a cock on his tongue. And he loves the sounds Grantaire makes above him, the tiny whimpers and little gasps.

Enjolras pulls off entirely then to nose at Grantaire's dick, closing his eyes and smiling fondly as Grantaire winds a hand into Enjolras's hair and tugs. Grantaire takes off the elastic that's keeping Enjolras's hair back and cards his fingers through the locks until they fall, warm and loose, on Enjolras's shoulders.

Right now, though, Enjolras is still in control, and he keeps his hands pressed flat on Grantaire's hips to keep him down as he swallows down Grantaire again, mouth watering and slicking the way. He wants to bring Grantaire to the edge, make him desperate so that when Grantaire finally fucks Enjolras's mouth, it's hard and fast and just a little bit more than Enjolras can bear, which is how he likes it. So he's meticulous, throat constricting around Grantaire's cock and tongue tracing each and every vein. 

Grantaire's breath stutters and his back arches, and his hands fist in Enjolras's hair so Enjolras pulls off, unable to stop himself from laving his tongue on the slit of Grantaire's dick, moaning in the back of his throat. Grantaire tries to roll his hips up to follow the heat of Enjolras's mouth but Enjolras is already gone. 

Enjolras leans back and pulls off his shirt in one swift movement and cracks his neck deftly, then reaches forward to collect a drop of precome from Grantaire's dick onto his thumb and lick it off. Grantaire whimpers helplessly when Enjolras grins and latches onto Grantaire's hips again, this time pulling him closer so that Grantaire's hips are at the edge of the bed. It's an alright angle, but Grantaire would rather stand so that he's able to hold Enjolras's head in place, so he does. Enjolras raises a strongly arched brow at Grantaire's improvisation but leans forward to rest his cheek against Grantaire's hipbone, nuzzling into the base of Grantaire's dick.

"Come on," Enjolras whispers. "Fuck my mouth until I ache, just use me. I'm ready for you, my jaw is loose and my mouth is watering. I want your cock, Grantaire, I want to feel it in the back of my throat so that I'm gagging on it."

Enjolras's words have their desired effect and Grantaire's hand fists itself in Enjolras's hair once again, yanking so that Enjolras's head is tipped back and his mouth drops open. There's a defiant, almost predatory look on Enjolras's face, and the corners of his mouth curve up in satisfaction as he's given what he asked for.

Grantaire positions his cock over Enjolras's mouth and Enjolras opens for him easily, and his eyes close, lashes splayed like spiderwebs over his cheekbones. Grantaire waits until he's more than halfway deep into Enjolras's mouth before he pulls out and snaps right back in. Enjolras moans loudly as Grantaire's cock rolls steadily in and out of his mouth, and the vibrations have Grantaire stuttering in his movements.

It's so good, and Enjolras feels a crick in his jaw but he relishes it, keeping his eyes closed. Grantaire's cock is considerable, to say the least, and Enjolras often uses his hands right alongside his mouth whenever he blows Grantaire. But this is all his mouth, all his full red lips and his impressive lack of a gag reflex, and Grantaire clearly loves it, with the noises he's making above him.

Enjolras's hands, which have been resting lightly against Grantaire's thighs, come up to his hipbones and press down in warning. Enjolras wants something out of this: he wants to be marked, he wants to feel Grantaire all over him in a way more intimate than they've been so far. He needn't have worried, however, because Grantaire gets the message. And he clearly wants this just as much.

Grantaire's hand loosens on Enjolras's hair as he gets closer to his orgasm, and he slows in his movements until he's still, cock resting in Enjolras's mouth. Enjolras bobs his head up and down one last time, slowly, and makes a show of sucking on the head and flattening his tongue over the slit of Grantaire's dick, coaxing out one last shudder. Then Enjolras pulls off entirely and his eyes are open again, looking coyly up through long lashes and the wave of hair that falls over his shoulder. He bites at his lower lip and Grantaire grabs his hair again, yanking him into the same position as before. Only this time, Enjolras's face is slack and his mouth is open, ready to catch as much of Grantaire as he can.

Grantaire brings his other hand down to his cock and jacks himself quickly, too close now for any finesse or teasing. He twists his wrist on the upstroke and groans sharply as he comes, and he furiously milks himself through it, coaxing long, pearly streaks of white from himself.

Come splashes Enjolras's face, warm and salty, and his eyes are closed against it but his mouth is open and wanting. He lets out a moan, high and wanton, which contrasts with the low one that sounds from Grantaire when he finds his release. Enjolras licks his lips instinctively, savoring and tasting, but Grantaire protests.

"Let me," he says, dropping to his knees and bringing up a hand to cup Enjolras's cheek, thumb swiping over the mess he's made of Enjolras's face. He collects come on the pad of his finger and brushes it against Enjolras's mouth, and Enjolras sucks it in greedily. Grantaire groans again.

"You have no idea what you look like right now," Grantaire says helplessly, and Enjolras sucks harder, mimicking his earlier movements on Grantaire's cock.

"Tell me," he says breathlessly, and Grantaire does.

"I'm all over you," Grantaire whispers breathlessly, and Enjolras, still hard, feels as if he is getting impossibly harder at Grantaire's words. He wants to be touched so badly, but he wants this first, wants Grantaire to clean his face off for him with his tongue and then feed it back to Enjolras. "You look so proud and hungry even with my come all over you, and it's splattered over your cheekbones and nose." As Grantaire speaks, his fingers trace the parts he names, and then Enjolras feels the rough warmth of him tongue following the path of his fingers.

Enjolras whimpers.

"God, it's even in your eyelashes, and-" Grantaire is so gentle with him, swiping his tongue underneath Enjolras's left eye and then rubbing Enjolras's eyelashes between two fingers. He trails the same two fingers down the side of Enjolras's face, following the curve of his jaw, and then up to his mouth. Enjolras nips at them and then sucks hard, taking in as much of Grantaire as he can. He opens his eyes finally, and they're stinging just a little bit, but it's worth it to see the awe and desire that's clear on Grantaire's face.

Yes, he knows. This was a good idea.

Grantaire continues to clean Enjolras, alternating between licking the come off and using his fingers to feed it to Enjolras. When Grantaire deems Enjolras neat again, he kisses Enjolras, and Enjolras can taste Grantaire on himself, and it's so good.

"Come on, let's take care of you," Grantaire grins into Enjolras's mouth, and reaches down to take him in hand as he pushes forward so that Enjolras is on his back on the floor, and he helps Enjolras kick off his jeans and briefs. There is a perfectly good bed behind them but neither of them bother with it. Grantaire keeps a tight hand on Enjolras's dick and a firm weight on Enjolras's pelvis, and Enjolras ruts up into the divot in Grantaire's hips, desperately seeking release. Grantaire bites at Enjolras's mouth and Enjolras comes hard, absurdly loud and absurdly high, pulling Grantaire as close to him as he can.

Grantaire rolls off of Enjolras so that Enjolras can catch his breath, and the two lie on the floor together, panting. 

"I would clean you off, but I can barely move right now," Grantaire says, and Enjolras huffs out a laugh, shoving him lightly.

"You could always lick it off." He offers, smirking.

"I think I've had enough come to last me a week, thank you." Grantaire says, but reaches over to grab Enjolras's shirt from where it's lying crumpled on the floor and tosses it over.

"Thanks," Enjolras says, wiping himself off. It feels natural, this give and take between them. It's sex but it's also comfortable and companionable and they're already so wrapped up in each other's lives that it seems like they'll never untangle. It doesn't even bother Enjolras that Grantaire still gives him shit at every meeting. He expects it, and he's glad Grantaire isn't changing himself fundamentally for Enjolras. He still thinks they're headed towards a fight, one that will be huge and shake the core of them, one that will define their relationship once and for all. But until they hit that point, Enjolras is happy riding the wave.

"I'm hungry," Enjolras says, shoving at Grantaire because they both know he's the only one who can cook between them. "And I have an essay to write."

Grantaire rolls his eyes but gets up anyway, pulling Enjolras up with him. "It's always business with you, isn't it?" He jokes.

"Did you think that was business, Grantaire?" Enjolras asks, fumbling through his drawers for clothes and tossing Grantaire some that he thinks might fit. His voice is soft, but he honestly wants to know. He wants to gauge where Grantaire's at in this, if Enjolras is alone in what he's feeling.

Grantaire comes up behind Enjolras and rests his head on his shoulder. "I hope," Grantaire says, choosing his words carefully. "That it's never business with me."

Enjolras smiles and turns around, kissing Grantaire slowly. "No," he agrees. "It's not business with you, Grantaire. It never is." He hopes that Grantaire doesn't construe his answer (as Grantaire is wont to do) and turn it into a deprecating comment, a remark against his inability to truly be a part of their cause. But Enjolras is reassured when Grantaire kisses him back, mirrors his smile with a grin of his own, only wider.


End file.
